The Underground is where we do all of our activities. We live and breathe in this hellhole, but it's all we have. It's the safest place in the entire country for a revolutionary group. Truth is, it's not even underground, but a factory from long ago that has since been abandoned, and we set up shop here to stay. The government doesn't monitor things like this, so we're perfectly safe.
My name is Dancer. Don't forget it. Those who do hear it for a second time usually don't last long. We, that is, me, Redeye, Chase, and Box, lead the Clan, the collection of about 50 or so revolutionaries, rebels, outlaws, and whatever who want to restore the wasteland of America. If that's even possible.
Nobody thought that electing President George Miller would cause this. The liar corrupted everything, and made the once great United States his own country, superpowered the businesses, and cheated everything to his own gain.
Nothing is legal. Women being outside without a man, children having a childhood, homosexuality, basically doing anything that isn't making more money for our 'president'.
Men do nothing but work in offices and factory's, women do nothing but cook and take care of kids, kids do nothing but go to school and study. It's horrible. Luckily, we got away.
It nearly cost us our lives. Redeye was blinded in one eye. Chase lost his left hand. Box, well, became Box. He doesn't speak much anymore.
And I, well, let's just say I don't show mercy anymore. More like murder. And a gun. It's chill.
Point is, we're a little messed up. The other 46 people are too. All of us are damaged in some way because of the governments minions.
We fight back. Little by little, we will save the day. Or something. I haven't read a comic book in years. Nobody has, except maybe the government worker rich kids.
This file better last. I won't be writing this again.
- Dancer.
I put down the pen and sigh. I stretch my hand, popping the joints, and crack my neck. I haven't done that much writing in months.
The door squeaks and groans as a person steps in. I turn around in the old faded office chair and see that it's just Redeye, my comrade-in-chief. We go back a long way.
"Sup, Red. Long day?"
He walks over and leans an arm on the chair back. The scar over his right eye is as ugly as ever. He sighs and says,
"Yea. The B team doesn't seem to want to listen today. I told them that we have to do this exercise, but noooo, complaining is so much better," he emphasizes with a hand wave. I smirk.
"Maybe you should tell them to clean the toilets; god knows they need a good scrubbing."
"That's what I did! Good-for-nothing's..." He mumbles to himself as he leaves, forgetting to shut the door again.
Redeye got it a bit worse than the rest of us; whatever head trauma he went through messed up his brain a bit, and most of us think he's crazy, me included. But hey, he's the best trainer in the Clan. We cant let him go. Though, he has a tendency to mumble to himself and shout at nothing, and he gets migraines a lot. Oh well.
I stand up and walk out the door. The Underground is falling apart. Wires and pipes hang from the ceilings and walls and various machinery has been torn apart and converted into armor and weapons and other various things.
People mill about, training and talking and a few are sleeping. When I walk by, they turn and nod in respect, since they all know I'm in charge. I had the idea to stay in this place, and frankly, they quickly learned that I don't take anything from anybody, especially disrespect. Nobody has lived to tell that tale.
I get over to Box's room easily. He is sitting on his cot, staring at his dagger. His long, blonde hair is covering his eyes. He's thinking again. I pat his shoulder and he looks up with those eternally broken blue eyes.
"Hey buddy, sorry to interrupt your moment, but the generators broken again. Fix it."
He nods. Box has the best mechanical skills in the Underground; that's why we call him Box. The 3 main generators are what keep us alive here, and frankly, they break a lot, and it's Box's job to fix them whenever that happens.
And it keeps his mind off things, so that works too.
He stands up, the iron shoulder plates on his shoulders still on, and walks to the door and is gone down the hallway. I sigh. He really needs to start talking again.
I worry about that guy.
Just as I make it to my office Chase walks in. Their metal hand is holding a holding a knife while the other is in their pants pocket.
"Hey Dancer, we need a third hand with E team. Some of them aren't listening to a word I'm saying and it's getting crazy annoying."
I sigh and run a hand through my multicolored hair. "Again?"
"Yup."
I roll my eyes and stand up.
"Maybe ol' Dancer can show them how to shut up and listen."
Chase laughs and we make it down the Hall to the Training Room E.
The Underground has 6 rooms dedicated to training our recruits; A, B, C, D, E, and F. Each room has a team assigned to it that trains in a specific way, like E is knife fighting, and B is stealth. It's how we organize our army.
We walk in and its chaos. Grass dummy's are lying on the floor and everyone is sparring with one another.
I walk up, puff out my chest, and shout
"STOP!"
Everyone stops in their tracks and turn. Once they see its me, they all stand up straight where they're at and shut up instantly. I smirk. This is gonna be fun.
"Alright, you maggots! Leader Chase here has reported that you lot have failed to listen to their demands! So I'm taking over class today! So I want three straight lines of five! Move!"
The class scatters to get in line. In a few short moments, the entire fifteen person class is in straight order. Success.
"Now I want you to refer to me as Leader Dancer or Ma'm! Failure to do so will result in Termination! Can I get a Yes Ma'm?!"
"Ma'm yes Ma'm!"
I smile. This class might not be so bad.
---
Hours later, the class is done. Chase did help me, I'll admit. The class was considerably better at the end than they where at the start. I'll admit, I'm proud of my handiwork. I turn to them at the front of the room. They immediately get in line. Yep, I'm proud.
"Alright, listen up! I'm proud of you today. You listened, and you got better. That's good. Now you better listen to Chase from now on, or I'll be back, and I won't be as nice. Now scatter!"
The group makes good haste to get out of that room. Chase turns to me.
"Thanks."
"No prob."
We high five and I walk to my room. I'm tired.
The sun is setting outside my window. Clouds of smog threaten to cover it, but those bright colors still glow bright. I've always thought of the sun like my Clan; it will never go away. We will never die out. In spite of myself, I smile. Today was good.
I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
